Sickening Thoughts
by SilJim
Summary: "This is far more worse than that damn crowbar; he could handle the crowbar. He couldn't handle this." WARNING: (Eventual) NON-CON, M/M, FLAMES WELCOMED (not required).


**A/N: Well it's official guys, I'm going to hell. Major non-con in this fic, you have been warned. It's my first time writing something like this, especially with these characters [it's not like I really ship the two], but I just felt... compelled to write this. Bad, isn't it? Oh well. Please review and excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes I may have missed. I would say enjoy, but is that really appropriate to say for a story like this? Read on.**

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The concrete floor was the only protection he had. That desire, that hidden desire that this madman would just leave him alone to go rot grew stronger by the seconds. He would only last a little longer, if he could just last until...

Jason's attention was drifting, his eyes close as he tries to calm down his aching body. Bruises of many shades loiter the skin underneath his torn up suit. Those green pupils dilate as the young hero tries to make out what is happening in front of him. Sometimes only small fragments of what's being said to him make it through his aching skull; majority of the time it was a repetitive ringing, and he wished it would stop.

A sudden hit to the chest with that damned crow bar threw the young Robin to the floor. The blow causing him to cough up something vile, the taste of blood staining his tongue. The beaten boy wonder looks up at the figure in front of him, eyes slowly trying to adjust to see that wretched face. He was smiling, that piece of shit was always smiling. His lips were moving but the ringing had yet to cease, what he was saying was far beyond him.

All attempts of concentration were proven unnecessary, he continued with his brutal ministrations. Another blow hit him in the chest and soon across the face. Fuck did it sting.

His body drums the floor with hard thuds, the feeling in his shoulders finally giving out. Grunts of pain echoe in the room, that and the horrid sound of laughter. It was all a nightmare, this was all some sort of twisted dream or fantasy. No, this didn't happen to heroes, not to Jason Todd at the very least. He'd be waking up any minute in his bed to the calls of Alfred and Bruce telling him it was unhealthy to sleep his day away.

In one last attempt for sanctuary, the young ward closes his eyes, maybe hoping for an ounce of mercy.

What a joke.

The blows cease their cruel strikes and lightly pat on the palms of said owner. The Joker. Jason gasps for breath, taking this moment as a hidden blessing to his predicament. That too distinct, raspy voice fills his eardrums, "So lets try and clear this up, ok pumpkin?" The pet name made Jason flinch; what a sick bastard. The light patting stops, "What hurts more?" His arm strums up, "A?" A hard smack hits an already raw stomach. He continues, "Or B?" Jason was teetering towards unconsciousness, how much longer could his body take? "Forehand," bile rose to his throat, "Or backhand?"

Breathless, Todd lays on the floor soaked in more of his blood. His voice slowly weakening; the more his chest beat against the floor, the more it hurt to breath. Jason turns to his side, eyeing the villain. He was laughing, of course, when wasn't he?

A soft mutter escapes the beaten Robin's mouth, attracting the clown's attention.

The Joker bends down to meet the boy wonder's side, he mocks the boys grunt to his face, "A little louder lamb chop," he begins, almost tenderly, rubbing his hand through the boy's raven hair. He speaks again, a tad more seriously, "I think you may have a collapsed lung, that always impedes the oratory."

At that moment, using all the remaining strength in his jaw, Jason spits blood onto the face of his mentor's greatest enemy.

The look of shock that strikes the Joker's face mentally makes him smirk, but the gesture surely does not please the clown-faced villain. That once comforting hand hauls that rattled skull up only to slam it directly into the pavement.

The Joker stands upright, talking down to Jason once again. "Now that was rude. The first boy blunder had some manners." He pauses, taking out a handkerchief to wipe the blood off of his face.

Robin turns his face around and gives his best smile to the maniac.

"I suppose I'm going to have to teach you a lesson so you can better follow in his footsteps... Nah," the makeshift weapon twirled in his hand, "I'm just going to keep beating you with this crowbar."

Jason grunts as a foot digs at his spine. A sharp bite from the crowbar has Jason begging for a scream, but he has suddenly become mute. Over and over he is wiped against the floor. The crowbar's hits aren't enough either, no, soon the Joker is kicking him around with no ease; already busted ribs snapping into splinters.

It's too hard to hold back now, Jason's lips quiver out whimpers. He is ashamed of himself, defeat beginning to take its toll.

The Joker takes interest in the now whimpering boy, "Oh my, does it really hurt that much?" Joker grazes his foot under the defeated body and kicks him onto his back. He watches as those defiant green eyes are replaced with shameful tears and a forming black eye. "Have you reached your limit yet? Are you going to beg and plead now?"

Jason stares up at the Joker, his tears turning into a glare that could kill.

The Joker smirks, "Just like the Bat, huh? How fun." He rests the crow bar against Jason's left temple, "I wonder what he'll think when he finds you here. So ruffed up, so... pathetic." He teasingly taps it against Jason's head, loving how the boy flinches on beat in fear for another hit.

It's interesting, the boy's defiance, or rather the excitement brewing in the Joker's chest. It was just too fun to break him, much too fun. How far could he push him without killing him? Surely a few more blows would kill him off... The Joker smirks.

A rush of air gets Jason's attention back and his eyes spring open to meet the Joker's face. The clown seats himself right atop of the boy wonder. He heaves in protest and with all the strength he can muster, Jason tries to pry his body away. A hand on his shoulder causes the boy to freeze. His pupils dilate in panic as the other hand slowly creeps forward. Jason flinches his head away from the hand, afraid of a personal slap to the face, but instead something else happens. Something much less painful, yet far more worse.

Those gloved fingers grab onto his chin, one finger lightly brushes against his bottom lip. The boy watches that painted face in shock, not exactly understanding the smile he was looking at.

The soft caresses to his bottom lip never stop, "Tell me pumpkin, how sheltered does the Bat keep you?"

Jason couldn't speak, not even if he wanted to. The question rings in his ears. Sheltered? What the hell does he mean by sheltered? There was no time to think, the longer that touch lasted, the more tainted and frustrated Jason felt. He swiftly tries to bite the Joker's finger.

The Joker deflects the bite in time, as if he knew the boy's move beforehand, his smirk has not left his lips. "Not too sheltered then, huh? Great, then I won't need to waste time explaining everything-" A hand suddenly grabs onto the boy's cape and rips it off as if it was made from cheap fabric. Jason's eyes widen as his garment is thrown behind Joker's back so easily.

Next, Joker reaches for his collar and roughly yanks it up until the boy's abdomen is exposed. A light gasp elicits from Robin, the cold air stings against his wounds. A gloved hand slowly prods at the bruises and swellings on his stomach. All Jason can do is flinch in worry.

"Well, well look at you Boy Wonder, painted in such beautiful colors," his hand continues to graze up the torn fabric until Jason registers that the madman is actually feeling him up. The knowledge hits Jason like a ton of bricks, panic and bile rise inside him. This is far more worse than that damn crowbar; he could handle the crowbar. He couldn't handle this.

Like the predator he is, the Joker senses the fear in Jason's demeanor, and he moves quickly before the boy could protest. He heaves the fabric up above the boys chest and head, leaving it trapped over his arms, preventing any struggling.

Jason stretches out, groaning as he tries to will himself free from this horrible predicament. There's no use, the Joker had taken all of his strength but left his mind untouched.

Until now.

Hands roam over his chest and stomach, feeling over every bruised muscle and broken rib. The Joker's eyes take in the sight; such a wonderful masterpiece the boy was indeed. His eyes flicker up to see the struggling boy wonder, who seems to be trying to block out the blunt touches tracing his body. He waits until the boy's eyes finally meet his. He doesn't break his gaze; it was a gaze begging him to stop. The Joker laughs, "Oh kiddo," his hands slowly stroke down until stopping at the ends of his pants. Those once defiant eyes shake in pure terror, tears finally falling down those bruised cheeks for all to see.

"The best part hasn't even begun."

Jason swallows a mouth full of bile.

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**A/N: Yep I'm just going to tease everyone, because I want everyone to feel uncomfortable and squirm :P Criticism and hate is welcomed, but rest assured it won't faze me much. To those who'd like it continued I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts on it.**


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